


In the Backseat of a '67 Impala

by SammysGirl666



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 08:19:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1462333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SammysGirl666/pseuds/SammysGirl666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And really, Dean thinks, if he ever did have a list then this would probably be like #0 and he can’t believe he’s never thought of it before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Backseat of a '67 Impala

It’s four o’clock in the afternoon and the sun is still beating down and they’re driving through a million miles of nothing. They’re on some nonexistent highway, going twenty miles over an irrelevant speed limit and it’s too hot for Sam to wear a shirt.

Dean’s got both hands on the wheel and he’s staring determinedly at the road. He’s at an impasse. Really, if Sam could just keep his gaping void of a mouth shut, Dean wouldn’t be having this problem. But that isn’t the case and Sam, loquacious as ever, broke their driving silence and shattered Dean’s concentration.

The whole shirtless thing is hard enough to ignore, but then Sam has to plant ideas in Dean’s head and Dean knows it can’t be accidental. They’ve lived together their entire lives. Sam has to know how impulsive Dean is. Of course he does, and Dean knows that he’s being played right now. But who cares? They’re a million miles from everywhere and Lay Your Hands On Me (because Bon Jovi rocks, _occasionally_ ) is blasting on the radio and Sam is shirtless.

Sammy is sitting there, all long legs and toned muscles, a thin sheen of sweat coating his body. He’s got this tiny smirk on his face while he mouths the words to the song that’s been ingrained into his memory from the amount of times he’s listened to this exact cassette tape since childhood.

Dean hates him, because Sam knows exactly what he’s done, what he’s doing. He knows exactly what he said about 65 miles ago that has Dean struggling not to pull the Impala over just so he can jump Sam’s bones. Dean hates him because Sam asks stupid questions and, usually, that’s okay. But this one isn’t because this wasn’t just a question, it was bait. Fucking Sammy always has to go and open his mouth.

\--65 Miles Ago--

“Do you have a list, Dean?” Asks Sam, casually. But it’s worded in such a way that Dean has to ask:

“A list of what?”

“Well you know how some people have a ‘fuck list?’ A list of people they’d have sex with if they ever got the chance, no questions asked?”

“Yeah, I guess, why? Someone on your list offer it up, Sammy?” Dean’s tone is light, but he’s got this hard edge to his voice that says _think before you answer that question, Sammy._

“No,” Sam says quickly. “It’s just that there are other lists...like...well like all the places you’d want to have sex.”

Dean’s grip on the steering wheel slips and the car jerks to one side. He pulls it back and coughs. Jesus Sammy, he thinks, warn a guy.

“Whaddya mean?”

“Like the bathroom floor...or the shower, or the girl’s locker room at the gym...or the back seat of a car.” The last one drops off of Sam’s tongue with the same nonchalance that the other suggestions did, but it does its job and Dean’s clearing his throat and pointedly not glancing at the back seat of the Impala through the rearview mirror.

“Why’re you talkin’ about this, Sammy?”

“Do you have one?”

“One what?”

Sam sighs exasperatedly and rolls his eyes.

“A list, Dean.”

“Oh...um, no Sammy. I can’t say that I do.”

“Really? You... _you_ don’t have a list of places you’d want to bang?”

"Are people still saying 'bang?'"

" _Dean_ ," Sam stresses.

“No, Sam,” Dean relents, “I don’t have a list of places I want to _bang_.”

“Okay,” Sam doesn’t say anything more for a second and then, “Christ, it’s hot in here.”

He pulls of his jacket and flannel and tosses them in the back seat, leaving him in just a thin cotton t-shirt that follows the outer layers shortly afterward.

\--Now--

So Dean is sitting in the driver’s seat, trying to get them to Minnesota with Sam glistening and shirtless beside him and a thousand new dirty thoughts running through his mind. Has he mentioned that Sam is shirtless? It’s incredibly distracting.

The problem is that Dean’s never even thought about it. Okay, that’s not the _biggest_ issue with him considering having sex with his baby brother in the back seat of his late father’s car. But it’s the one he gets caught up on. Because, he has honestly never considered it. The Impala is sacred and it would be disrespectful to her if Dean fucked some nobody slut in her.

The only time Dean’s ever had sex in her was with Anna and that didn’t count. Dean doesn’t think of that as fucking, but as a gift to a girl who was hours away from becoming a Holy Robot again. He’s never fucked just to fuck in the Impala. Of course, with Sam, it isn’t just fucking.

Nothing is ever that simple with Sam. If Dean’s honest with himself (which he, resolutely, isn’t) he loves Sam so much, it lights up every nerve in his body. But Dean doesn’t do honesty with feelings so the most he’s willing to admit is that it’s _never_ just “fucking” with Sam.

Still, to have sex just for pleasure in the Impala isn’t something Dean’s ever considered. It’s a bit ridiculous, actually. Even when he was young and dumb, he’d never thought about sexing up girls in the backseat. That was his place with Sammy. He didn’t want his beloved little brother sitting back there in the remains of hot nights he had with slutty nobody girls. The Impala was his special place with Sammy.

It still is.

Then, Dean thinks, this is just another moment with Sammy, another good memory in the car. Why not christen the back seat with his little brother, the only person he’s ever loved like this?

But...it’s the Impala...

Sam shifts and opens his legs a little wider and leans his head back on the seat so Dean has the perfect view of the delicious slope of his baby brother’s neck. Suddenly, Dean isn’t sure what the moral dilemma is. It’s Sam and, fuck, that’s enough. He pulls the car over with a little too much gusto and they both curse as the tires squeal lightly on the pavement.

Dean really can’t believe he’s never thought of this before. This is _Sam_ after all, and he’s been sitting shotgun with Dean for years. And really, if Dean did have list, this would probably be like #0 and he _can’t believe_ he’s never thought of it before.

The car barely slows to a stop before Sam is getting out and moving to the back seat. Once he’s there, grinning like the cat that got the cream, he wraps his overly large arms around Dean (who’s still processing things) and drags him into the back seat with him. Dean chuckles and pushes himself back so he’s sitting down in the backseat with a horny Sammy at his side. He doesn’t get to say anything before there’s a lot of Sam-tongue in his mouth. The younger man pulls away, still smirking.

“Thought you’d never take the hint,” Sam mutters against the plush skin of his brother’s lips.

“You weren’t exactly subtle,” Dean retorts. “So how we gonna do this, Sammy?”

Sam inhales sharply, and shifts next to his brother.

"Well, this is a limited space, so to avoid a lot of awkward fumbling, I suggest I get naked before we start." Sam starts removing his jeans and underwear but Dean didn't miss his exclusion from the nakedness that Sam suggested before.

"What about me?" Dean asks, already suspecting what's coming.

"Want you just like this," Sam says. "Want you to fuck me with your clothes on."

Dean groans and unzips his pants, pulling them down just enough to reveal his rapidly hardening cock. Dean really isn't sure how they're going to do this. Sammy is too tall to sit on his lap and ride him and neither of them would fit, laying accross the backseat. But Sam seems to have considered all this because he opens one of the doors and lays back, his head and shoulders outside of the car, the rest of his long lean body inside, offered up to Dean in clear invitation.

Sam has a grip on the back of the front seat and the inside of the door to keep his head from falling back. He's looking at Dean expectantly.

"I won't be able to hold this forever, Dean. Need you to fuck me sometime to day."

Dean doesn't need to be told twice. He carefully arranges himself between Sam's legs and reaches forward to wrap his hand around his brother's hard dick. He strokes a few times to get Sam to relax and, with his other hand, reaches down to prep Sam's hole, only to find the pert entrance already slick with lube.

"Got myself ready for you, De, didn't want to wait."

Dean groans, shoving his thumb into the loose hole and massaging it. Sam gasps and bucks his hips forward.

"When?" Dean demands, pulling his thumb out and replacing it with the head of his cock.

"The last gas station," Sam pants, trying to grind himself further down onto Dean's cock. "Went into one of the stalls and fucked myself on my fingers. Mmmm...thought of you the whole time, big brother."

"Jesus, Sam" Dean growls, shoving the head of his cock past the first ring of tight muscle before pulling back out again.

"Dean please, stop teasin'. Need you in me now," Sam whines.

Normally, Dean would ignore Sam, tease the kid until he was completely lost and then he would fuck the loose, compliant body into next week. But Sam's arms are shaking and Dean really doesn't want his brother to get a concussion just because Dean was too much of a dick to give in.

So, deciding that he can tease his baby brother later, he lines his cock up with Sam's entrance and slams home. Sam groans and grinds himself down to try and gain more friction.

Dean doesn't waste any time, and starts a hard and fast rhythm, fucking Sam into the leather seats of the Impala. The car rocks on its foundations, squeaking while Dean slams into Sam again and again. Sam is a mess, writhing and bucking and whining. The space is small so Dean can't properly angle his hips but with a little effort, he manages to hit Sam's prostate on every other thrust.

"Jesus fuck!" Sam cries, almost a sob, as pleasure wracks his body. "Dean, fuck De'n"

Dean growls in response and increases his pace. The Imapala rocks faster and Dean loses himself in the tight heat of his brother.

"Can you come like this, baby brother? Just like this. Fuck, think you can come just from my cock inside of you?"

Sam doesn't answer so much as he lets out a high whine of pleasure worthy of a porn star and begins to slam himself back onto Dean's dick with more force. Their pace becomes frantic and Dean is almost afraid that he's going to blow his load before he gets Sam there.

But just as the thought occurrs to him, Sam loses it. His entire body arches upward and he _screams_ in pleasure as thick ropes of come shoot out from his dick. The spurts get all over Dean's chest and then slow down to steady ooze. But the ooze just doesn't _stop_. And Sam is shaking all over with the intensity.

"Oh my _god_ , Dean," Sam whines.

Dean watches as Sam's orgasm _finally_ stutters to a halt and Sam is left spasming and whimpering.

"Holy shit, Sam," Dean gasps and then he's done for. He spills into Sam hard and the world goes white for a second. When he comes down, he sees that Sam is sitting up and pulling off his cock. When he gets his body in the car, he closes the door and, promptly, passes put.

Dean catches his breath and uses Sam's discarded boxers to clean himself and Sam up. When he's finished, he arranges his brother's body into a comfortable position before zipping up his pants and getting out to move to the front seat.

He starts her up and pulls off the side the road. He glances at Sam's fucked out, sleeping form in the backseat.

He grins and mentally checks, 'the backseat of a car' off of his new list.

"Maybe we'll try the shower next, Sammy," he mutters before putting in some Zeppelin and rolling down the windows.

They still had a long road to Minnesota.


End file.
